It Was Love at First Sight
by Hunnyfied
Summary: This was meant as English homework, but I ended up changing the names after realising that I was essentially writing USUK. Just a sweet little story about AU Alfred and Arthur and their budding relationship. T to be on the safe side. One Shot.


"It Was Love at First Sight…"

_This story was done with different names for my English class, so the characters are kind OC. While I was writing this, I realized that I was writing Fanfiction without meaning to! Ha. Anyway, it's AU, and was very fun to write. I am going to shock my English teacher a bit though…_

I really don't want to be here. The music is too loud, the room is too hot, and I'm pretty sure that my friend, Françoise, has disappeared. She's one of those girls who forces you to come to a party, promises the whole way there "I'll be right with you, I swear!" and then ditches you when a cute guy asks her to dance. Typical. I'm normally rather used to Françoise's begging and have become immune to it. I guess my recent emotional instability has caused me to fall prey to her wheedling and sweet-talking.

As I morosely contemplate whether or not the content of my soda can is enough in which to drown myself, she appears out of nowhere.

"What are you doing?" she giggles, obviously intoxicated. She wedges herself onto my lap and I stiffen, my body going rigid in a manner that would suggest 'go away' to anyone other than a drunken valley girl.

"Contemplating suicide," I reply, both honestly and rather coolly. It takes her a minute to realize that I'm angry.

"Like, what's wrong, Ar-"

"Really, Françoise?" I demand, cutting her off. "You bring me to this party and leave me all alone! I don't even know anyone here. And you ask me what's wrong?" I try as hard as I can to keep my voice down, but I'm pretty mad. I've been subjected to horrible questioning stares and the awkwardness of sitting on a couch alone for the past hour. As a socially-stunted person who feels completely uncomfortable in my own skin, this is pure torture. I had seriously felt like throwing up a moment ago. The only thing keeping my hastily eaten dinner down was the thought of how much more awkward I would feel if I did actually get sick.

"Honey, seriously! You need to lighten up."

"And you need to sober up." I counter.

"Ugh. Fine. I came over to point out a couple of cute guys to you. If you want me to go back to Dylan, I will…" _So that's the name of the Ken doll that had his hands all over her, _I think to myself.

"No! Please stay…"

"Okay," she giggles. Matchmaking is her favourite game, and she takes too much pleasure in the discomfort she often creates. "What about him?"

I wrinkle my nose at the brunet Adonis in plaid she points out.

"Too… perfect and preppy."

"Aw, I kinda liked him. He's on the football team…" _One more strike against him, _I think.

"No."

"Fine. What about the Japanese exchange student?"

She gestures to a quiet Asian boy with his hair gelled up and cool black slacks.

"Does he even speak English?"

"I don't think so… What about over there? The guy in black?"

Ew. A boy with seven piercings in one ear and black skinny jeans stares glumly out at the general mess of students.

"No, not him… Isn't there anyone normal here? Seriously?"

And then… I see him.

Across the room, he walks through the door with a group of friends, but I don't even see them. They could be grey blobs for all I care. I only had eyes for him… It was love at first sight. No, really. I know you are probably groaning and thinking to yourself '_Psh, love at first sight is a myth. A fairy tale! It only happens in storybooks…'_, but I swear I already love everything about him.

He has slightly shaggy blond hair and wide blue eyes that sparkle behind thin glasses. He's a bit taller than me, and not exactly ripped, which is good. I think that a boy with too many muscles has confidence issues. Plus, if I had a boyfriend who exercises more than me, I would feel pudgy. He's wearing a cool t-shirt with the logo of a band I haven't heard of before on it, and normal, straight-leg blue jeans.

It isn't just aesthetics (though he happens to be extremely attractive), or his aura of 'really, really nice boy, you could take him home to your parents'. It was a kind of… feeling about him. I'm suddenly internally aware that I have just fallen for him, and have fallen hard. Something about the way he walks, the way he jokes with his friends… I don't really even know him yet, and I'm already so deeply in love that I want to cry out in joy.

"Who is that?" I hiss, digging my nails a bit into Françoise's arm.

"Oh, Alfred? I don't think he's a very good choice."

"Why?"

"The same reason you can't date 90% of the male population of our school."

"Oh." I suddenly feel unclean, like I have a disease.

In a rare gesture of sympathy, Françoise rubs my arm from her perch on my leg. "You can go talk to him, you know. It's not illegal. Try being his friend. See how that works."

So I do.

Five weeks later, and I am marveling at how helpful Françoise's advice was. She's no Agony Aunt, but the girl sure knows how to handle love. Well, Françoise doesn't like using the word 'love', per se… She is doubtful about whether or not the l-word should be used to describe my feelings, and is instead satisfied with calling it an extreme crush disguised as love. I think it's the other way around.

"Woah!" Alfred laughs as I somehow manage to blow the head off of his virtual soldier. "You're awesome at this!"

"I've never played this video game before," I mumble, feeling a blush heat up my cheeks.

"Really? Could've fooled me."

I smile, and a timer sounds from downstairs.

"Was that the-"

"Yep," I say, jumping up and racing to the kitchen.

"Mmm…" Alfred moans as he walks in behind me, sniffing the air. "Cookies… Where did you learn to cook again?"

I laugh. He's practically drooling. I put another baking sheet into the oven and say "My grandmother taught me."

"Huh. That's kinda strange… Wh- OW!" Alfred yelps. I turn to find a still molten mound of chocolate and dough cooling on the tile floor and my friend grabbing at his flushed red hand. As sorry as I am that Alfred hurt himself (he seemed to be one of those people who somehow managed to inflict a lot of pain on himself completely by accident), I'm glad to have an excuse not to answer why my grandmother suddenly felt the need to teach me how to cook properly six months ago.

"Geez," I grumble, pulling at his arm to rinse his hand under icy water. "I turn my back for two seconds…"

"Pfft, okay _mom_." He teases, pulling his arm back from my grip and shutting off the water.

I turn back to the cookie dough as an excuse to hide my face, flushed with pleasure at being so close to him.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

_No, _I think. "Yes," I answer. Quite frankly, I feel like an idiot… Alfred has managed to convince me that a plain t-shirt coupled with my school P.E. shorts is a perfectly normal-looking outfit in which to play catch. On my left hand, I have an enormous glove that feels old and crusty under my fingers. Apparently, the older the glove, the easier it is to use. Digging my heels into the dirt near the first base of the school's baseball diamond, I sigh and brace myself.

The wad of stuffing, stitching, and fabric comes at me faster than I would expect, and I jump out of the way. I just barely manage to hold back a squeal.

"What was that?" Alfred teases.

"N-nothing!" I call, picking up the ball.

"Nothing? You jumped three feet to the right! You looked like you thought it was going to explode or something!"

"I'm not very athletic…" I mumble, blushing.

"So I can see."

"You don't have to be so mean about it!"

"Ha, you're right. Okay, throw it back."

"Alright," I say dubiously.

I pull my arm back and softly lob the ball towards Alfred, who catches it with ease. I stick my tongue out at him when he laughs at me for my weak attempt. He throws the ball back at me, and this time, I feel like I'm ready. I tense, holding out my glove the way Alfred showed me… and yelp as the ball crashes into my head.

"Oww…" I moan, dropping into the dirt.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Alfred sprints towards me, the very picture of concerned.

"No… This was a bad idea…"

He helps me up, and then gets me up to the bleachers. I drink some water and he inquires as to how many fingers he is holding aloft. We sit in silence for a moment after he has made sure that I don't have a concussion.

"You're kind of… feminine, aren't you?" He asks hesitantly. "More so than most people."

I huff. I'm used to that by now. Ever since I was little, people have been telling me how girly I am. As a kid, I was never very good at running, throwing or catching. I preferred books and drawing.

"Sorry!" He stammers out. "I really didn't mean to offend you!"

"I don't mind. Just… don't play baseball with me. Ever."

"Okay."

I sit there quietly, playing with the glove Alfred lent me, smiling as I notice his initials scribbled on with permanent pen.

"Have you ever played soccer?" He asks mischievously.

I groan.

"Wait, really?" Alfred asks.

"Yes."

"You-"

"_Yes._"

"Really?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, yes! Is it really that hard to believe?"

"No, I guess not… You just don't really seem like the type of person who plays the guitar."

"Well, I do."

"Hmm…"

"Oh god, what? I can see that look in your eye, what are you planning?"

"Will you play for me?" He queries pleadingly. _Oh gosh, not the puppy dog eyes,_ I think.

"Why?" I can't help but sound a little grouchy; I haven't played in ages and feel rather inadequate for it.

"Well, there's this group of guys at school… They started a band and I really think you should be in it."

Oh. "Um… Okay."

I pick up the beautiful instrument, running my hands lightly over the polished wood. I twang a few strings, hoping that it's properly tuned. I'm in luck, and soft, pretty sounds pour out of the guitar. I wrap my arms around it lovingly, and begin to play.

I carefully watch my fingers to prevent mistakes during the first verse, but look up to better see Alfred's face as he sits there and listens. He looks surprised, but also like he really is enjoying the music. I'm playing a song that he showed me a few weeks ago and I can see him mouth the words along with the chords I strum.

"Wow."

"It's not that great…" I'm blushing again, cursing my easily flammable cheeks.

"Yeah it is! You're awesome!"

"Thanks."

"Did… Did you teach yourself those chords?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… That song is fairly new, and you said that you played guitar a long time ago… Did you learn that song recently?"

"Yeah... You were the one who played it for me, and I really liked it," I say, the little white lie coming out easily. I like the song because he likes the song and knows every lyric, not necessarily because it's good music.

"Wow… That's cool. Was it hard?"

"Not really…" I reply, my traitorous head echoing my words with '_Only about six sleepless nights of trying to play so quietly that my parents won't hear me. Not hard at all.'_

"If you don't mind… Would you play that again?"

I fidget with my swimsuit, wondering if Alfred will ever emerge from his room. His mother and I are still talking, so my impatience has little to do with a lack of entertainment. I'm anxious to see what Alfred looks like shirtless. Gah, hormones. Stupid teenager-ness.

He comes into the living room and his brightly coloured swim shorts nearly blind me. I tell him so, but it doesn't faze him.

"Neon is so in right now!" He beams, his smile almost as vivid as his swimwear.

"I give up," I groan. He just grins.

After a relatively quick car ride, we arrive at the pool. And for some reason, the entirety of my biology class year comes back to me, and I'm remembering exactly which gland in my body is causing me to feel like such a dithering idiot about the prospect of seeing a boy _sans_ shirt.

_Stupid,_ I chastise myself, and turn away to pull off my own shirt just as Alfred plunges into the pool behind me.

"Are you coming?" He hollers from the deep end, where the water is (unfortunately) up to his chest.

"Just a sec…" I say. I don't _really_ want to swim, the reason for my presence being the aforementioned shirtlessness. My hair normally gets really wiry in pool water, going really dark and hard to manage, but I would rather not miss out on the chance to hang out with Alfred.

I take a deep breath and dive in as gracefully as I can into the chlorinated water.

He smiles as I surface… and promptly splashes me in the face.

"Ah!" I gasp, blinking water out of my eyes. "Idiot! Now my hair's all messed up! Why did you do that?"

"'Cause it was way too easy," He replies with an angelic smile that makes me melt.

The movie theatre is really dark, as the film hasn't started yet. I can hear Alfred beside me, noisily crunching on snacks. That boy can certainly eat a lot. He bought the largest bucket of popcorn the theatre had, plus two sodas and four boxes of candy, and then turned to me and asked what I would like.

"Want some?" He asks through a mouthful of gummy bears.

"I'm good."

Swallowing noisily, he shakes the box in front of my face. "You sure? They're really good…"

"I'm fine, I swear. Normal people only need one chocolate bar at the movies." I tease, and he laughs.

"I guess I'm just abnormal." _Not as abnormal as me,_ I think to myself, and turn to retort when the lights dim and the previews start.

From my seat next to Alfred, I can see him intently watching a commercial for an action movie with overdone suspense and way too many explosions for my taste.

"Wanna see that sometime?" He leans over to ask, his warm breath washing over my neck.

"Uh…" His closeness has turned my mind to mush.

"You okay?"

"Um, yeah… That movie seems really violent to me…" I say, as truthfully as I can without sounding mean. "I'm more into romcoms."

"Romantic comedies?" He asks. "Yeah, I like those too. They can be more entertaining than fourteen dead bodies and a timer clicking down the seconds before the world implodes or something."

"Yeah… Have you noticed that movie makers seem to be running out of plots?"

"Totally!" He exclaims loudly, and is immediately shushed by three or four parents. "Oops," he whispers. "Totally. Only like, half the movie commercials I see are interesting, and then half of those movies suck when I go see them."

"I know, right? It rather annoys me when they put all the funny parts of a movie into a commercial."

"Yeah… Okay, what about that one?" Alfred points to the preview playing now for an animated flick about friendship and togetherness, as shown through the actions of talking, dancing and singing animals.

Looking up at him, I raise one eyebrow, and laugh with him as he snorts soda out of his nose at the look on my face.

"-and we're not playing sports there?" I verify.

"Nope. The trees look really cool at this time of year, so I thought you'd like to talk a walk in the park."

We turn a corner and push open a quaint wooden gate into a beautiful park. I look around us, and notice the foliage Alfred had been describing. Red and orange mingle cheerily with yellow and green, and I smell autumn in the air.

"I can't believe we're going to be back at school soon," He remarks.

"Yeah. Hey, what classes are you taking?"

"Um, Physics, Algebra 2, Spanish, PE, US history, and normal English."

"Cool. I hope I'm in a few of those, my schedule sounds pretty similar…"

Walking a little farther in comfortable silence, we find ourselves on a bench, watching the last few little kids get called home by their mothers to dinner. The light is fading, and I watch as orange and pink begin to lightly tint the sky. I sigh happily, and almost hug Alfred. He was right. It's a beautiful day, and the park is lovely. I turn a little sideways, intending on thanking him for bringing me here, and freeze up completely as he moves closer to me and puts his lips on mine.

I'm frozen in shock as he moves back slowly, gauging my reaction.

"I-I'm so sorry," He stammers.

"No, I-"

"No, really, I'm sorry, I'm not sure what came over me, it was the atmosphere and everything… Oh my god, I've been so confused lately… God, you must hate me…"

I respond by leaning in and kissing him back and I smile to myself, feeling the shock in him I had felt a moment ago.

I release him, and say "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Huh?" Wow, are my kisses that good? He looks dazed.

"Why?"

"I-I didn't know if…"

"Are you kidding? I stress way to much about my hair, I can't play _any_ sports, and I _bake_, for god's sake. I'm sort of the poster child for gay teenagers."

"Arthur…"

I roll my eyes at him. "If you had come out of your safe, dark little closet a month ago, we would be in a relationship."

"Really? You like me that way?"

"Would I kiss you if I didn't?"

"I guess not, no. Would you like to go out with me, then?"

"Of course," I respond, intertwining our hands together.


End file.
